Don't hate the player, hate the game!

From my favorite advice column (in the Washington Post):

Carolyn,

I have always been in the camp of "If I want to call a guy, I call him." I figure he's got just as ways to avoid that call or take it as I do -- and if he avoids me, I usually get the hint. My dear sister thinks that if said guy wanted to talk to me, he'd call me, therefore I am wasting my time, even if this guy talks to me when I call.
Most of me wants to ignore my sister and continue to live my life but there is a little part that wonders -- should I stop calling and wait from them to call me?

Carolyn Hax: The perfect guy for you is one who thinks it's great that you call. So, keep being yourself and scaring off the guys who hate that you call, since, if you do take your sister's advice and change and attract a guy who prefers women to be a little coy, he's just going to fall for your sister the first time you bring him home. There's a reason we're different. Enjoy.

Ah, the woodwork is so pretty with the crazies coming out of it!

Dear Blog World,

First I feel I must apologize for my extended absence (volunteering and watching CSI every night does not an exciting blog make). Not that I'm promising to return consistently, which oddly enough is precisely what this post is about, but life has gotten more interesting again and I have felt the spirit move me to share with you again. So sit back and relax, while I tell you a tale of friendship, betrayal, and ultimately, maturity.

Background: On New Year's Eve I made several new friends since I stayed in Pittsburgh and went to two different parties with my "gay boyfriend" (that's another story entirely which maybe I'll tell later). The first was a bunch of hippies who didn't have a TV and so we had to make up our own countdown according to our cell phones. The second party was an entirely different group comprised of Jewish brothers packing heat (yeah, how often do you hear that phrase? well, if you're not in Israel I mean). So, as can be expected, I befriended the older brother after asking to see his piece (the metal one, just to clarify for those thinking I was using a euphemism). So last week we got together and made dinner and discussed politics and he kissed me. Now of course this was not out of the blue as I may have been rather friendly in my drunken state on New Years, but I wasn't exactly feeling it that night at dinner.

Well, partly because of the kiss and partly because I've actually been busy hanging out with the sis and my other new friends, I didn't call him back for over a week. Yeah, slightly bitchy, but how old are we? And I wanted to hang out again, because he seems intelligent and has some interesting views which I don't often discuss with people. So last night I stopped by at the bar where he works, dragging along my other new friend Abby (who rocks, btw. who knew girls could be so much fun?) who also knows him. Well, I could tell the minute I got there that he was either pissed at me or at least at something. So he basically ignored me the whole time and I left an hour and a half later reeking of smoke and feeling like it really had been time well spent. About ten minutes later I get a text message, "Come back any time." My immediate reaction was, "Kiss my ass," but instead I went with something along the lines of: I believe I will. It was such pleasant company. Thanks for having me. Which then tipped off a 15-minute text message fight (this is the maturity part I was referring to) before he finally called me. He had the nerve to call me a Princess, which I have to say is maybe the worst thing I've ever been called (hey, I only got over being called a girl a few years ago). But, boring details short, we had it out and are now semi-okay. I think we're getting together on Monday for dinner and a discussion of those wretched liberals.

Desperate for friends? Why yes, yes I am. Thanks for asking.